


Save Steve

by dance4thedead



Series: Save Steve [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Bucky Barnes's Trigger Words, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Grown men stargazing, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance4thedead/pseuds/dance4thedead
Summary: Steve gets snatched and forced into the Chair with a mind wipe scheduled to autorun.





	Save Steve

There was nothing suspicious about Bucky's text at two in the morning to meet him on a nearby rooftop in fifteen minutes. The incoming number was from Bucky's cell and demanding to meet in strange places was still in the realm of "typical-Bucky-behavior." Plus, Hydra spoofing Bucky's number didn't even cross Steve's mind at the time. Not that he could be really blamed for it, since phones lacking a rotary dial were new shit for him.

So he stepped out through the roof access door shield-less and with his guard down and was met with the brain-splitting whine of a banned piece of Stark Tech. Years ago, the high frequency tone emitter was used against Tony, rendering him paralyzed. Against Steve with his serum-enhanced hearing, it was devastating on a kryptonite level.

Every cell of his being vibrated with the stress of trying to decipher the static-cloaked signals his brain was trying to send out. He tried to move, scream, but his body might as well been a car stuck in neutral. His knees collapsed beneath him and his right temple slammed against roof tile with all of his body weight.

\-----

A couple boys with a several more years on them than him and Bucky, and each with fifty-so pounds on him, had made a real good game of popping a few kittens in a potato sack and dunking it in the river. Bucky shot him a "can we not" look and tried to give the rascals wide berth. But Steve, being Steve, couldn't let that be and marched up to them, demanding them to stop.

Fighting five-on-two, they probably got away lucky with between them only one black eye, a couple bruised ribs, and a knocked out tooth that Bucky probably didn't need anyway.

We should bury them, he had said, jutting his bony chin out stubbornly. Bucky gave a tired sigh and nodded.  
  
On their way home that night, he asked Bucky if he was mad at him.

Bucky's sour expression suddenly cleared and clear as a bell, Steve remembered him saying "Nah. You just got me thinking that I ain't as brave as you. Can't do the hard things unless someone else is doing the leading."

There was so much on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say in that moment. That he wanted to say in that moment years later. That he was sorry that they both got hurt. That he was sorry it was all for nothing. That Bucky following him into a losing fight was brave in-and-of itself.

Instead they walked on silent as it started to rain.

\----

400

Steve came back into a groggy consciousness with his arms and legs strapped to a chair.

It was smell that gave away the person standing over him, pulling the ear buds out from Steve's ears, then removing the mouthguard. Seventy years changed nothing.

"Hey Bucky," he said, a stupid smile likely plastered on Steve's face.

Bucky's normally impassive features were a bit more tense, a bit more deliberate. He set Steve's shield on the floor to pry at the restraints with both hands. "We've gotta get you out of here. This thing is set to run in about six minutes."

There was something strange in Bucky's voice, a tremble that didn't belong there. Maybe Steve's concussion was getting the best of him.

Slowly, Steve's perception of the world around him came back. They were in a basement with medical and tech equipment strewn about. A metal cradle and neck strap kept his head firmly in place on the chair.

But that didn't explain what was wrong with Bucky's voice. His gut was screaming at his brain that he was missing something so important.

The last time Bucky sounded this way, Steve and Sam found him with his arm in a hydraulic press. The last time Bucky was both detached and scared shitless.

But of course Bucky wasn't freaking out now, not with Steve in danger. Bucky should have a terminal degree in reigning himself in and putting on a brave face for Steve's sake.

Or Bucky was freaking out and was the world's best actor. The notion made Steve's head pound.

All the Hydra agents had long fled. The only thing they had to do now was get him out of these cuffs and go home.

Home. Two adjoining bedrooms, a kitchenette and bathroom in a tall metal tower. New York City. A skip and a hop and a couple decades shy of the place they grew up. Home.

330

Bucky bit back a grunt, his metal arm shaking with the force he was going at the cuffs with. "Cap, help a little. They're not giving an inch."

A laugh left Steve, unintentionally. Bucky Barnes, war hero and super soldier, defeated by a couple metal restraints and a stupid chair.

Oh.

Of course Bucky was absolutely wigged out of his mind right now. Of course Hydra has a terribly cruel sense of humor.

In his mind's eye, a scene played of Bucky chasing him down a city street, Bucky shouting himself hoarse with the same sad name cried out on repeat like a desperate mantra. And from his own mouth, Steve found himself looking straight at the man asking with not a hint of recognition, "Who the hell is Steve?"

Steve thrashed suddenly in a blind panic. The Adamantium in the restraints cut into his skin.

He couldn't be in the chair. He couldn't be wiped. Memories were all he had now.

302

"Rogers, get your head on. We have a couple minutes. Lets use them."

Steve willed himself to go limp. "Bucky…"

"Not now, Steve."

He picked up the shield and smashed the edge down on the locks, full-force.

A metallic CRUNCH.

Eyes went wide in horror. Part of the shield crumpled. As in, the supposedly indestructible Captain America shield.

"Dammit."

The shield slips out of his grasp."

"God dammit."

In two steps, Bucky was punching his flesh hand into drywall. Because Bucky in the moment was living his worst nightmare, and under the gun it saved more time to put a hole in a wall than to go full on catatonic.

Steve tried to keep his face calm. "Bucky, can you get someone on the line to see if they can override the system?"

"The wipe is scheduled in four minutes and counting and the computer stuff is all in Russian," Bucky said, emotionlessly, getting his breathing back in check.

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Clint's family got grabbed the same time you did. All resources are mobilized right now to get them back." He looked up from the blood and plaster pouring down his fist. "They thought that's the call you would have made."

214

Steve laughed, shakily. "Yeah… yeah."

"I thought I would have been strong enough, fast enough, to get you out of this in one piece on my own."

"You made the right call. Clint's family is priority."

"Shut up, idiot."

And Bucky would have cried if he could. But he didn't cry when he fell, nor when tortured, nor framed, nor when the whole world turned against him. He was just so broken that his body didn't remember how to. Family was priority. Mission failure eminent.

"Maybe we should try break these cuffs at the same time. You and me, together. I don't have much leverage from this angle, but as long as I…"

"It broke your shield, Steve. Your shield."

Steve couldn't help but flinch as Bucky spun around and punched another hole in the wall.

Steve took a deep breath in and in his mind's eye, conjured images on Brooklyn in the summertime, the smell and soft sounds of his mother baking in the kitchen. Kissed the memories like ashes he had to let go.

Wished he had the time to rebuild a broken friendship with a good man in a red and gold suit.

158

Deep breath out. "Okay. It'll be okay. You'll bring me back. I know you will."

Bucky looked down at his bleeding fist again.

"Steve."

"Yeah, Bucky?"

He hesitated, before proceeding. "There's a way to get you out. But… it'll hurt."

145

Steve's face twisted in confusion. "Whatever you're thinking, being able to remember you is worth it."

Bucky nodded and fished a phone from his pocket.

140

"But, I'm not brave enough," Bucky said earnestly, like it was something fundamental he needed Steve to understand. "Don't hate me. Please."

Why would Steve…

Suddenly, Bucky was murmuring hasty bits of Russian into the phone.

130

"BUCKY! NO! STOP! YOU CAN'T…"

Bucky stopped the recording and pressed another button. It begun to playback.

Steve strained against the restraints. "NOT HIM!" He couldn't stop himself from begging. "THE LAST PERSON I REMEMBER AS ME, DON'T MAKE IT BE HIM!"

Bucky closed his eyes and Steve knew he was already tuning him out when he said a final phrase in Russian.

"DON'T LEAVE ME!" Steve screamed anyway.

120

The recording ended.

Steve let out a broken sob.

Bucky was gone. The man in his place opened his dead, doll-like eyes and returned the phone to his pocket.

110

"I have my orders. I will comply," said the Winter Soldier.

His voice was a old wound to Steve, torn fresh open once more.

"Bring him back."

He couldn't bring himself to care when the Asset shoved the mouthguard back over his teeth.

The Asset grabbed at both their belts and quickly undid them.

80

A belt went around each bicep, right above where the restraints were holding him down. The leather was cinched taut, biting deep into skin.

60

The Asset hefted up the shield with his metal arm, and without pause whacked the edge sideways into bone and sinew.

Blood flew out in an arc and Steve was screaming out around the mouthguard even before the drops hit the floor. His right arm dropped down to dangle by a strip of skin. Blood pumped out from the stump with every beat of his heart, despite the tourniquet.

52

Bucky-no, the Asset, sliced through the remaining skin with a knife. The amputated arm hit the floor with a sick thunk.

Lights flashed on the monitor and the head cradle as the chair started booting up.

44

The shield ripped into Steve's other arm. The bone bruised, but didn't break. Bucky was torturing him.

A second blow. More blood. His head was swimming. He was being punished. Pain like a live wire. He let everyone down. The Accords. His friends. So many causalities. Everything on fire.

He should have died when he crashes the plane.

Bucky cut into him again, but it was okay. He was just going to sleep now. It was for the best.

28

Distantly, he felt hands pull what was left of his arms through the restraints and his body pushed forward.

19

His head was free of the chair contraption. He couldn't remember why that was so important, but Bucky was gripping his shoulders to keep him from falling forward.

Keeping his arms higher than his heart.

Did he even have a heart? They only had one arm between them now, that was kind of funny.

13

Steve's head rested on the sweaty crock of Bucky's neck, but it felt all right. There were worse ways to go than to the rhythm of familiar breathing.

Bucky was ordering him to stay awake, just for a little longer.

10

The electricity of the chair whined in anticipation behind him.

9

8

"End of the line, pal" he mumbled into the skin by his lips. "Made it a good one for me."

4

3

2

Maybe he'd see Peggy soon.

1

Electricity fizzled and buzzed and the air around him turned dry and bitter.

It went on for some time, then the current cut off. The restraints on his legs and feet popped open with a hiss just as Steve finally passed out in the arms of the Winter Soldier.

\-----

"Same time. Same place. "

That was the text sent to Steve's phone from an anonymous number shortly after he woke in the Avengers' Tower medical bay a day and a half  
after the incident.

Clint's family was safe and sound. The team came through with just a few dings, and Bucky Barnes was AWOL.

To answer the question that no one wanted answered, it turned out that the serum wouldn't regrow cut off bits, but it could slowly fuse parts back together. Keyword: slowly. And bone knitting itself back together wasn't the most pleasant experience.

But with his arms reattached with casts and wires, at two-fifteen in the morning, nevertheless, Steve slipped away to the nearby rooftop.

The Winter Soldier jumped down from an awning to meet him.

Not another Hydra setup: confirmed. Good, he wasn't exactly in fighting condition.

"You wanted to meet?" Steve ventured, after a long period of silence.

"I'm not Bucky," the Asset finally said, slowly, like every word spoken was meticulously selected.

Steve nodded. "I can tell the difference."

The Asset stared at him, blankly. "You had us confused."

"I was losing a lot of blood at the time," Steve scowled. "You're still here."

The Asset gave a careful nod.

"Look, thank you for what you did--"

"I was following orders."

"Can I have Bucky back?"

"Eventually."

Steve shifted, uncomfortably. "What are you even here for anymore?"

The Asset tipped his head back towards the sky. "I'm a conditioned reflex, not a person. A gun with a trigger. No morality, no empathy."

"Okay?"

"But," the Asset gave him a long look, "I think I find these stars in this sky… beautiful. How?"

Steve was at a loss for a moment, before clearing his throat. "They're not all stars, you know."

The Asset didn't acknowledge that statement, instead saying, "Fleeing would be disobedient behavior. Aiding or destroying Hydra alone would also be disobedient behavior."

"What were your orders, Soldier?"

The Asset regarded him for a moment, before saying something quickly in Russian. The only part Steve understood was his name.

"And that means…?"

"Why does it matter that the lights in the sky aren't all stars," the Asset responded, once again sidestepping the question, "if someone still finds them beautiful?" The Asset asked with genuine innocence.

"Also," the Asset continued, "why do you meet allies at zero-two-fifteen on unsecured rooftops?"

"I don't know," Steve admit. "I don't know, but it's okay not to stick labels on everything we look at, in my opinion."

The Asset sat on that thought, then said, "Your friend labels himself as 'not-brave'. In situations involving you, he struggles to be reckless."

Taking in the view one more time, the Asset said, "But to surrender autonomy... hoping I'd let him back in is actually… incredibly brave. To me. But, Steve Rogers, all I am is a reflex that mixes up stars and airplanes."

"No, I understand, too," Steve whispered, almost to himself.

With that, the Winter Soldier gave him a signature smirk and let his eyes close, let everything shift back into place.

Bucky was there, standing beside Steve, in New York City, on their favorite rooftop. They would have to talk later, but right now, being there, knowing all that they knew, that was more than enough.

And despite what they'd like to think, neither one of them were out of place or broken.


End file.
